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[Open] Week --: Gavelock's Hunt: Lake Cerulean

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Gavelock's Hunt: Lake Cerulean




Outside the western gate of Terminus lay Lake Cerulean, an expansive body of crystal blue water. The lake stretched a fair distance east to west. Narrowest near Terminus, the lake widened the further west it went. The sky overhead was bright blue and clear, a perfect day for fishing. Boats dotted its surface, undeterred by the holiday celebrations, except for staying well back from a perimeter maintained near the southeast bank of the lake.

Impraevitas ships, with a distinctive mottled green and black paint job, were warding the fishermen back from the zone given over to Nocte Nil.

A forest grew along the southern banks, mainly evergreens. Normally relatively safe, especially this close to the city, a number of wild beasts had been released into the general area -- even some aquatic monsters. The Impraevitas worked to keep the animals in the designated areas, but otherwise they intended to avoid interfering with the hunt.

In certain extreme situations they would intervene to save the participants, but everyone who joined in had to sign an agreement stating that they understood the risks.

Beasts now roamed the woods and the bank of the lake, some of them hidden below the water's surface. Some were game, like deer, but there were also a number of dangerous creatures, predators waiting for hapless hunters to let down their guard.

With miles upon miles of wilderness to hide in, or stalk in, Lake Cerulean and its surroundings promised to be an exciting part of Gavelock's Hunt!

(250/250)
 
Sure, why the hell not.

That was Deni's initial reaction when he heard about Gavelock's Hunt. He wasn't much of a hunter of beasts, per se, his kind of hunt usually involved something a little more... soft. Something less dangerous and with a much sweeter prize. Usually. A break from the norm was always welcome, though, and perhaps the rush of taking part in such a pulse-pounding event would provide a nice change of pace. Who knew, maybe he could find the kind of prize he sought once all the hunting and killing was done.

"Where to begin, where to begin..." the pale Velen muttered to himself as he observed his surroundings. His black leather waistcoat concealed Plaything, the only weapon he really owned, a pistol that he had made himself and not a fantastic one at that. He could feel the gentle breeze around his ankles beneath his black 'man-skirt', though it wasn't the breeze that really called to him. Lake Cerulean was his chosen area for the hunt for one reason - it was a lake. When dangerous beasts were being imported from all over Araevis for the event, he wanted to make himself comfortable and where else would he have felt at home, other than in the water?

"Well... is there a gunshot or something to signify when the event starts or... do a sign up somewhere before I go fill some poor animal's face with lead? Or do I just... do it? Oh boy..."

[248/248]
 
There was something about the embodiment of water stretching far and wide in front of her that made her feel at ease, at home. She wasn’t one of those aquatic dwellers, or even one of the airborne ones. She was a laicar, loud and proud, but still the water called to her. The hunt for her honour restored brought her to Terminus, a city of colours she had never witnessed before. Lush, green forests, bright blue water and the city of Terminus looming above it all adorned her eyes with a tinge of unease.

It looked drop-dead gorgeous to the first-timer, but the scenery made her feel estranged, sick even.

She was used to eternal white, blazoned on the world around her, and mother earth’s timeless sleep. There was very little wildlife where she came from – Arctoa, the Northern Wastes as the inhabitants of Terminus called it – and what little cattle they did have was domesticated. As the daughter of the bane of AsfÁ­r, she was next in line to take on the mantle of her noble family’s blood.

When the hunt for glory left her with more scars than she could ever hope to recover, she was disowned. To take on the mantle, one had to show their worth by becoming the bane of a great beast. As the slayer of a great beast, she was to take on her father’s mantle. The hunt was turned on her, though, and the result was her being left to fend for herself.

The only way to restore her lost honour was to finish what she started.

Looking out over the crystal-blue, she saw her face reflected in the water. Her raven-coloured hair was tied in a messy-looking ponytail, and her steel-blue eyes seemed to weigh on more than just her options. The fur coat she used to wear back in Arctoa was exchanged for a simple silken cloak that fell over her outfit made of leather. It had all kinds of pockets for some things she needed, and some things she didn’t.

Her somewhat rusty sword – she’d fallen in the water on the way to Terminus one day, and she never had the chance to get it fixed or replaced – was placed on her hip and was resting in its sheath when she heard the mutterings of a man not far off to the side of her. Drawing her blade, she turned to face the man.

Velen, she thought to herself as she lowered her guard and sheathed her blade again. Water, I should’ve figured.

“Hello!” she called out to the man, waving her left arm somewhat energetically as she tried to catch the man’s attention.

[445]
 
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Deni spun around and eyed the woman approaching him. Another hunter? Her sword told him as much, though it barely looked capable of chopping wood. Then again, the one pistol that he managed to craft on the cheap was hardly an artifact of legends. As she drew nearer, his eyes widened slightly as he assessed her.

What a black-haired beauty! he thought to himself. Let's hope she's the only hunter in this competition. I'd like to get to know her just a little bit better.

"Greetings, my dear," Deni said as he bowed slightly upon her arrival. He lifted his head quickly, so that he didn't seem too formal. "I'm assuming that you're here for the same hunt as I?"

The Velen scratched one of the dark blue marks on his arm and glanced towards the surface of the lake. Something about the surface of the water made him a little... uneasy. Perhaps it was an instinct embedded in his kind, but he could have sworn that something was lurking below the water. If the hunt had already started he would have to remain wary.

How to remain wary of beasts while trying to impress a woman, he thought and almost smirked. I think that should be the title of my first book.

The Velen offered his hand and let that winning smile appeared on his face.

"My name is Deni. May I take a name to match that stunning complexion of yours?"

[491]

 
If her fair-skinned complexion was capable of showing her being flustered, it didn’t show. Whatever warm feelings she got from the ‘my dear’ part were quickly dismissed and turned into an innate sense of disgust. Did this beast from some water tribe just address her as ‘my dear’?

Preposterous, she noted to herself, sighing softly.

She’d let it slide for this time. After all, as the velen had so aptly mentioned, she had not given him her name yet. It was customary to introduce oneself back in her hometown, even to inferior beings, but since she was branded a nīðing by right of her family, she could hardly form a coherent rebuttal. Aside from the fact that this waterman did not need to know her story.

“SigrÁ­ður,” she spoke in her native tongue with an air of regality. “Daughter of Nothing.”

The last part of her name was spoken in basic as tradition dictated she gave her full name, first and last. She had been reduced to a state of nothing by her family, the community she so adored and so she carried her surname, Nīðingsdóttir, with shame. She did not want to speak the words in her native tongue.

That did not mean she could go without saying it, though, and no matter how much of her honour she had lost when her hunt went awry, she was still bound to its ancient code.

“I seek a beast far and beyond your reach, velen,” she spat with incredible venom. The mere thought of ‘seeking the same hunt’ as this thing made her blood boil with the hatred of a thousand ancestors.

“I am here on a trail,” she continued, “a trail best taken with strides. I was just passing through Terminus on my quest, when Gavelock’s hunt was announced. How can I, SigrÁ­ður, pass on the opportunity to earn a great boon, a new title, little waterman? So you’d best not be pulling my leg, velen, or I’ll be forced to run around as Denisbane for the foreseeable future.”

[345/790]
 
...With spear held high, the call rang forth with resounding cheer, “This day the hunted become the hunters. No longer can we standby and hide from the beasts which plague us. Let all who can muster the courage take arms and push back the feral monsters. And this night, I promise we shall all eat well!”

The bespectacled young man walked slowly down the path set between the edges of the great forest and the expansive lake. His eyes scanning back and forth between the two for movement from anything indicative of feral beast, he kept his mind on the task of being a participant of the hunt. This would be his first hunt, his usual excuse of being too busy studying no longer viable, and thus his courage would be tested by the creatures that populated the hunting grounds.

“...I bet Gavelock’s friends didn’t send him off on his own to hunt.” Mors rolled his eyes for a moment as he gripped his spear tight. “Virgil and his Wyld Hunt daydreams. As if I could ever become an adventure extraordinaire, part of a guild of equally impressive hunters, going out to every corner of the world taking on ancient ruins and monsters alike.”

A rustling of bushes to his left, Mors stopped in his tracks and put his attention towards the forest. Nothing save the wind moved as he stared into the shadowy mix of leaves and branches. A splash of water behind him then caught his attention. A short spin around, the scholar found another hunter laying claim to a large fish on the end of their sword.

“Going to ruins to research the past is one thing, but fighting beasts and monsters is a completely different story,” Mors whispered to himself as he started to walk carefully down the path again. “Gavelock had courage to face danger head on; bookworms only find that in the stories they read where a magic mirror can show the hero valiant what he truly carries inside himself.”

Continuing onwards, a quiet splashing slowly came following the young Oblivio, just out of his earshot.

[ 352/352 ]
 
Whatever comeback the Velen had for her rejection - it was almost spontaneous, considering the amount of times he had been rejected since entering Terminus - left him at the mention of her name. The verbal style of the word paired with the title for a surname, they both sounded very familiar. No doubt it was something he was taught in one of the many lectures his parents gave him about his heritage. Regardless, she had continued her vocal attack and Deni's smile only widened when she finished.

Oh, we have a fighter. I'm going to enjoy this.

"You wound me, my sweet," he said, holding his chest as he feigned heartache. "Such a beautiful woman with such scornful words. I dare say I think we were made for each other."

The pale rogue noticed another hunter entering the scene, though he generally seemed to be living in his own world. He was even talking to himself, though by the way he was dressed, Deni could discern that he was likely a hunter by nature. First the racist woman, now him, two people who were natural at killing beasts.

Great, there goes any chance of winning, he thought, with just a hint of scorn. Well, I might as well have some fun with-

The sound of lurching mud was familiar to the Velen's ears and he spun immediately to face the water. Ripples in the surface of the blue grew larger until a dark shape decided to reveal itself. Breaking through the surface, a deep-red shell was apparent, along with a pair of antennae atop what could have been described as a head, though it was difficult to discern from the rest of the shell. Several pairs of narrow appendages clawed at the dirt, dragging the creature onto the land where it ceased its movement. The giant pincers on the front pair of legs were at least the size of a small cart, the carapace reaching a few feet taller than Deni. He didn't want to know how long the creature was - its rear was still submerged.

"Gammarus," Deni said as his hand slowly reached inside his jacket. "Usually quite docile, but accuracy is required to get beneath all of that shell."

He pulled the pistol out of his jacket and clicked back the hammer before he held his arm out towards the beast, taking a careful aim.

"Go ahead, Laicar," he said to Sigrid. "Take the first hit if you wish."

[913]


 
That she did. With a quick unsheathing of her blade, she hit the velen man straight between his eyes with the hilt of her sword. Though she was careful not to apply too much force to the hit, there was still a streak of blood that flowed from the newly created wound.

“Don’t push your luck, velen,” she hissed under her breath as she dashed for the crab-like beast.

It’s shells were tough, and the red colour made it almost seem like it was soaked in the blood of its former enemies, but the beast didn’t seem smart, or fast. It’s movements were dull, scurrying back and forth along the lake bank raising its claws high above its body and clapping them angrily at the rushing laicar.

As she came closer and closer, the crab’s pincers lunged towards her. First the left one, which she managed to dodge just at the last second with a sidestep. Then the right one came, but this time she was prepared. Coming to a halt just as the pincer was rushing towards her, she merely stepped off to the side a bit and let the claw sail past her. She raised her blade above her head and brought it down on the weakest and softest part of the beast’s arm.

An earth shattering cry echoed through the valley as the beast’s claw fell to the ground with a loud thud. It stumbled, and fumbled to the right and left again, and then even a little bit back and forth.

“Oh?” she posed with a faint smile as she raised her guard. “You want to go one more round beast? Then show me what you’ve got!” Planting her feet firmly in the ground, she crouched over slightly and pushed herself off the sand with great force, dashing towards the beast again.

[305/1095]
 
Deni staggered back one step after the strike, wiping the blood on his arm before grasping the bridge of his nose. Through watery eyes he watched his new acquaintance tackle the beast with few problems, a feat that he probably shouldn't have been surprised by. He held off on firing his gun just because of that hit, smiling despite the stinging in his nose.

"I think I love her already," he muttered to himself and rolled his neck around his shoulders. "We need to work on the whacking people who give compliments though."

The Velen lifted his gun again once his nosebleed had stopped, aiming to fire at the creature, but noticed another shifting on the bank of the lake. Another set of claws appeared just a short distance away from the Gammarus that Sigrid was fighting.

"Well, that'll be mine then."

Before Deni could react, however, a third set of claws appeared, scraping yet another large shell of a creature onto the land. Three of them? Oh, that was going to be fun.

"I guess there's enough for everyone," he shrugged and aimed Plaything straight between the eyes of the newest beast. A loud crackle resonated as he pulled the trigger, followed by a groan of agony as blood began to seep out of the aquatic monster. Of course, he was just a little too far and his aim had been a little shoddy, so that only made the Gammarus angry. It decided to charge towards him, leaving a trail of blood behind and pushing on with claws as sharp as a blacksmith's blade.

"I'm sure I read somewhere that one shot to the head should-"

Deni lunged back as the beast took a swing with those sharp pincers. He aimed his pistol again, though he had to work quickly. At such a close range, he couldn't miss.

Bang. Bang.

The creature fell onto its belly before the Velen, but he stayed away from it just in case it wanted to lurch one last time in an act of vengeance. With a mildly disgruntled expression, he turned to the raven-haired beauty, who was being approached by a second creature while she dealt with the first.

"Couldn't you have saved hitting me in the face until after all the killing's done? You've impaired my accuracy," he shouted to her, though even when he finished speaking he continued to smile. He was a strange individual; he enjoyed having a feisty woman around, even though he knew that his chances with her were practically non-existent.

Deni aimed his pistol at the new crustacean, firing a shot at its head without truly aiming so that it would be distracted by him, rather than pursue the northern woman.

[1,370]
 
Her sword, Veiðimaðr, had been with her for well over a decade and a half now - she’d received it from her father when she was but a wee lass - but something told her that it would not see the end of this hunt. She had other, lesser weapons to fight with, so it wasn’t like she’d be without any form of attacking when her blade would break, but….

In the corner of her eye she saw a single bullet fly past her and straight into some other beast she hadn’t seen before. With blade raised, two options coursed through her mind. Either she’d rush the beast in an attempt to take advantage of the distraction Deni had caused, or she’d get the hell out of dodge.

Though she was not one for running away from a fight - after all, in her pursuit of restoring her honour, running away would only end up pouring an entire can of salt into her already heavily bleeding wound - there was this aching, tingling feeling in her sword-arm, coursing from and to Veiðimaðr. Something was coming. Something strong, something big. Stepping back with slow, even steps, she fixated her eyes on the beast in front of her while at the same time looking around for the source of this uneasy…

“Deni, run!” she shouted suddenly, as she broke line of sight with the beast, turned around and ran like the wind.

No wonder this feeling was so familiar, she’d dealt with this before. This icy-cold, blizzard-inducing beast. Finding Deni in her sights, she tackled the velen and kept both of their heads low. She only hoped that whomever had decided to join them on this hunt had been smart enough to do so as well.

Daring to look back at the source of her worries, she saw a frostormr engaging in battle with the beast Deni had shot. Although, it wasn’t so much engaging as it was tearing it apart with its breath, and though the dragonkin was nowhere near as large or imposing as the one she'd faced back in Arctoa, it was still a sight to behold.

“Frostormr,” she cursed under her breath. “Really? A fucking frostormr!? Fuck!”


[370/1465]

Yes, I did just call that.
 
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Deni's gills began to contract as he sighted the giant creature. Perhaps it was fortunate that before he even had a chance to react, Sigrid had dragged him to a safer spot for observation. Hiding in foliage on the edge of the woodlands, the Velen's blue eyes observed the creature killing and devouring the gammarus. The crustacean was about as helpless as a mouse against a cat. A very large, frost-breathing, reptilian cat.

"From the sounds of it," Deni breathed, once he actually found his breath, "you know the dangers of a... what did you call it? A frostwyrm?"

Again, the name was familiar. Everything about the Laicar woman kept sending off alarm bells in his mind, as if he was supposed to remember something that his parents had taught him years ago. Then the giant wyrm appeared, a creature from her homeland? That sounded a little coincidental.

Argh, what am I trying to remember here?

"It doesn't appear as though anybody else is going to turn up any time soon," he whispered and glanced around the area. "With that in mind, do you think we would be able to tackle a frostwyrm on our own?"

His gun hand trembled as they crouched next to one another. He knew that if he would start firing, the nerves would disappear like they always did, but while they were just observing, he couldn't help shivering. That creature was huge and if they were going to fight it, he would need as much of the Serpent's blessing as he could take.

[1,627]
 
The young Oblivio stood with his mouth agape as he watched the other two hunters that were in his vicinity make short work of the crab-like beasts that came out to attack. “...totally out of my class, here.”

Returning on his course, the air suddenly dropped to an icy chill. As his whole body convulsed, Mors slowly turned his head to look back towards the other hunters. If it could have, his jaw would have hit the ground. Danger had come in the form of a wyrm.

“Bellator’s wrath...” Forgetting to breathe for several moments, Mors Oblivio’s legs jerked backwards yet did not seem to move an inch from where he stood. “It is going to take a united effort to take that thing down. I need to get to them...we need to make a plan...”

[ 136/488 ]
 
“No,” she said resolutely, Veiðimaðr tightly held in her sword arm as she glowered at the beast.This was not a beast she wanted to fight, this was not a beast she wanted to match in vigour or strength, but she knew that this was a fight they could not shy away from.

“But that does not mean we will not try,” she finished, a soft sigh escaping her.

Any other time, she would’ve gladly fought a frostormr to the death. Any other day she would’ve been more than happy to duke it out with a beast from her home country, but not this time around. This was Gavelock’s Hunt, organized by a group of people. They were not supposed to be any danger, so any defeat of an otherwise great beast would be nulled simply because of the lack of life and death.

Dying, on the other hand, during this hunt would not restore her honour either. It was a predicament, surely, and one she wasn’t really sure she enjoyed too much, but that was neither here nor there as she stood face to face with the majesty of this great dragonkin.

“I think that guy off to our right felt its presence too, waterboy,” she said as she glanced over to her side for a split second before focusing on the task at hand again. “I don’t want to have to charge him, but I do not believe we have much choice in the matter.

“You think you can distract him for me long enough so I can get in close?”

[265/1730]

Sorry for the late reply guys.
 
Once Deni had finished questioning who actually had the balls between the two of them, he managed to bring about a reply. That thing was huge and it was obvious that Sigrid was reluctant to fight, but as insane as it sounded, the velen actually agreed with her. They had entered a hunting contest and he wasn't going to run for the hills just because his game was bigger and more ferocious than he had first envisioned.

His eyes switched quickly to his black-haired hunting partner.

"You want me to distract that thing?" he asked rhetorically and managed a smile. "Distractions are my specialty."

Slipping out of her arms reach before she could come up with another reason to whack him on the nose - for some women, his facial expressions were enough to earn him a slap - he leapt out into the open.

"Hey, Frosty!" he shouted, brandishing his pistol and aiming for the head. Three consecutive loud crackles sounded and Deni decided it was time to run. He never had running for the hills down as a tactic, but Sigrid had a plan. He hoped.

The beast shrieked in pain, but didn't show any signs of defeat, just agitation. He didn't know a great deal about the creature and its hide was incredible thick, so he wasn't particularly surprised. The beast slithered in his general direction, heavy guttural grunts audible for the unfortunate souls around the lakeside while it began its pursuit of the pale Velen.

Great, I'm target number one. What now?


[1,883]

 
Earth deafening, bone shattering and the whole world turning to white right in front of her were all that coursed through the woman’s existence as the frost wyrm made its plightful descent. Deni had done exactly as she had asked of him, but in that single moment, when the screeching, almost torrential sound of the dragonkin pursuing its prey pierced her ears she witnessed what was undoubtedly going to be the end of the velen.

With its wings widened, its feet firmly planted in the ground, the wyrm shot up in the sky once more and before SigrÁ­ður could so much as turn around to where the beast had gone, she found herself shouting, “Get the fuck out of there, to the left, to the left!” to the velen in the hopes that he would be able to dodge in any way, shape or form.

Not waiting for the boy to respond to her heeding, SigrÁ­ður charged the beast with renewed vigour, this time making sure that she’d actually get to it before the wyrm had a change of heart again. Whatever plans she had, though, were now out of the question. She couldn’t beat this beast with tactics alone, they’d have to fight it using brute strength instead.

She had always felt a bit out of place amongst her brethren. She was taller than most, plenty muscular - though still surprisingly feminine looking given the circumstances - and had scars that many a warrior would be proud of, but it was only when she felt her muscles tighten, her vision heightening and her feet planting themselves more firmly in the ground that she truly felt alive.

With Veiðimaðr held high, arms up and blade pointing forward, she exploded in a wave of adrenaline, her body calling upon untapped potential, and the will to strive beyond the soul. She closed the gap in mere seconds, even though the frostwyrm was known for being relatively quick, SigrÁ­ður made short work of that and crashed headlong into the unassuming dragonkin’s left leg with such force that she could not help but scream and shout from the top of her lungs.

Raaaargh!!!” was all that came forth, and she hoped that the beast would start to focus on her now.

[380/2110]
 
The greatest mistake Deni made was turning to aim his gun once he had already started running. The great mass of a monster had shown its full length and it's massive wingspan, covering the insignificant aquatic in its shadow. As he froze in place for just a moment, the Velen found his gills losing control as he tried desperately to contain his freak-out. On that front, he failed.

"Holy fuck buckets!" he shouted and leapt back through the air as vicious claws came crushing down. His luck held out as the talons missed him, though they tore chunks out of the ground as they receded. Something else had caught its attention. Some pretty little thing with black hair and a lovely complexion...

Serpent's breath, is she mad?

Before it tried to swallow the hardy - foolhardy, more like - battle maiden whole, Deni did the only thing he could do in the circumstance. Three bullets left his gun with consecutive bangs before he had to pull more out of his pocket and reload. If nothing else the huge beast seemed somewhat disoriented, perhaps uncertain of the noise the gun made, but at the very least it gave Sigrid a chance.

"Are you addled, woman?" the rogue shouted with a laugh of outrage.

Telling me to run then charging at the bastard herself. I think she is mad.


[2,111]
 
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